


Silver bite

by Astronautes_et_Dragons



Series: Chidren of the Night and the Moon [2]
Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Multi, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-03-04 18:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13370835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronautes_et_Dragons/pseuds/Astronautes_et_Dragons
Summary: Amos, Holden and Naomi have barely recovered from the Julie Mao case that they discover this might just be the beginning of their problems when people start disappearing accross the Belt. As if it was not enough, Holden's past comes back to torment him and the leader of the pack is faced with his responsibilities.Meanwhile, Chrisjen Avasarala tries to stop a war and not to get killed by her colleague.





	1. Save the day

**Author's Note:**

> Do not hesitate to tell me your thoughts! I accept negative feedback but only if it is constructive.  
> Thank you for reading!

“—and the guy just kept talking and talking, explaining what the problem was and how to fix it like he knew everything about cars or like he had already done that, which was clearly not the case since he would have never come to the _Roci_ , then.”

A lop-sided smile on his face, Holden listened to Naomi as they were sitting around the table with Amos, their plates momentarily forgotten. Taking on the offer she made after they went back from Montana, he had regularly been dropping by her house, not having the heart yet to stay long in his own apartment although he knew that he would have to. The chances that anyone would buy it after what had taken place were as likely as the male mechanic becoming fast friend with a vampire.

“Amos was just there, in front of him, not saying a word and staring at him, and after a moment he slowly handed him his tools,” she continued. “And then this poor guy completely lost his composure; he did not know what to do or where to look anymore! I swear that when he came back for his car, he was relieved that I was there and not him.”

Holden chuckled while the other lycanthrope shrugged, slightly amused. “He was acting like he knew better than me, so I could not wait to see how he would fix the problem.”

Naomi was about to comment on that, when the news caught her attention. Frowning, she turned up the volume.

_“— another person has been reported missing in Ceres. It’s the second since the beginning of the week and the inhabitants are growing more and more concerned, especially since several disappearances also occurred in the other cities of the Belt.”_

They were no longer laughing. “Seems that the thing with Julie Mao was only the beginning,” Amos observed. “I bet my pay it’s connected to what she stole.”

“We must do something. We can’t just sit there and let people be abducted.”

Holden’s lips pressed into a thin line. “We don’t even know who is behind this and what they want. For now, it’s best to let the police do their job.”

“We might be these people’s only chance, Holden. The police don’t even know the whole story,” Naomi said, determination showing in her tone.

“Miller does and he's a Clear-sighted. If he needs information he will come to us,” he gently objected. “Besides, I haven’t said we are not going to do anything. We will watch how everything plays out, and intervene if need be and once we will know more about what is actually going on. I don’t want to make the situation worse. I mean, we don’t even know what Julie Mao stole from the vampires.”

“Can’t be good to humans or to us,” Amos grumbled.

They finished their meal in a quieter atmosphere, each absorbed in their thoughts. The blonde werewolf directly went to his room, followed by Naomi before the latter was stopped by Holden.

“I meant what I said; we are not going to let them hurt innocent people.”

“I know; otherwise we would be having a completely different conversation.”

He smiled. “Naomi, or the human who makes werewolves shake in terror.”

“I like how that sounds,” she grinned. “You stay for the night?”

That sounded much more like an invitation than an enquiry. Was she aware of how poorly he slept when he was at his place? That would not surprise him. She was a perceptive woman, after all. Blessed was the day she walked into the _Canterbury_ , even if it was on this day that all his problems started.

“Thank you.”

She took his hand, and gave it a light squeeze. “I’ll go fetch some blankets.”

 

* * *

 

Careful not to wake her husband, Chrisjen Avasarala got out of bed and headed to her office, her embroidered nightgown billowing in her wake. She did not bother with make-up—that would simply be ridiculous and she was not trying to impress her interlocutors—but deftly braided her long, dark hair, all the while fighting the impression that she was some school girl secretly meeting her boyfriend in the middle of the night.

She was far too old for that shit.

Unfortunately, this was the only moment when she and her—partners? Associates?—could talk to each other without arousing Sadavir Errinwright’s suspicions.

“Can one of you explain to me why humans are disappearing when we are supposed to have the substance?” she said as a greeting, her glare directed at the Archons. “Is there something that you would like to tell us?”

“The substance we retrieved was a decoy.”

Forget about Sadavir Errinwright, next time she was setting an appointment at noon.

“So, hunters started the testing process and we still don’t know what the properties of this substance are,” she said, smiling sweetly at them. “Did I get something wrong?”

No one replied.

“Do you know where they are kept prisoners?” she asked Jules-Pierre Mao.

“Not yet. You must understand that I have a limited access to information.”

“And you must understand that you will have to change that, otherwise our agreement will be cancelled. Should I remind you what that would mean?”

The old werewolf remained perfectly composed. “I will see what I can do.”

“Our men are mobilized and investigating in each city,” Pyotr Korshunov added. “Also, considering that the substance is meant to affect humans in some way, we are working on the profile of each victim, more precisely on their DNA to establish a correlation.”

Chrisjen Avasarala winced internally. She should have thought about that sooner. Despite their people now being allies, she was not fooled; even if they succeeded in saving everyone and avoiding a war, one of them would inevitably lose the struggle for power. And it would not be the werewolves. There was a reason why she was one of the Elders.

“Keep working on that and leave the hunters to me.”

* * *

 

Praxidike Meng stared at the blush-colored backpack displaying two dinosaurs that lay on the passenger seat, and then at the rectangular piece of paper in his trembling hands.

Detective Josephus Miller

Ceres Police Department

 

Taking a deep breath, he slipped the card in the pocket of his jacket and got out of his car. With purpose, he walked toward the desk behind which a round-faced man with thick, dark hair and a light brown skin was sitting.

“Hi, what can I do for you?”

“Hi, I would like to talk to detective Joe Miller. He’s investigating the disappearance of my daughter, Mei Meng.”

“You’re her father?”

“Yes. Praxidike Meng,” he replied before adding as he sensed the mistrust of the employee—they had certainly seen more than one guy pretending to want to talk to them only to insult them for whatever reason. “I have some new elements that may help to find her. Please, let me see him.”

His fingers curled around the edge of the furniture as the man watched him closely. There was no way he would be able to go around the man and try to find Miller; the policeman was twice as large as him, and much taller even seated. If his daughter was here, she would have said that he was secretly a giant who decided to leave his lands to travel the world and to live among humans.

“Wait here. One of my colleagues will come for you.”

Seemed that this giant was a gentle one.

“I heard you had something for me?” Miller said as he was about to sit down across from him, before pausing for a second when he noticed his contrite expression. He immediately straightened, opened the door and shouted.

“Champa! Why did you let him enter? Take him back!”

“No, please!” Praxidike Meng abruptly got up, almost knocking the chair over.

The Belter turned his head toward him. “You can’t stay here.”

“Please, I need to know!” he cried. “Do you know anything about what happened to my little girl? About who abducted her? Have they contacted you? Do you know what they want?”

“If I had anything new since last time we talked, I would have informed you. Now you’re just wasting both of our times. If it wasn’t for you I would be investigating, actually looking for your daughter instead of having a pointless conversation," he snarled.

A deafening silence followed. The father’s eyes widened and then fixed the ground.

“Everything’s alright?” Champa —the giant— asked, looking at the two men.

“Yes, thank you. Mr. Meng is about to leave.”

“I’m sorry, detective. I did not mean to bother you.”

At his voice and expression, guilt washed over Miller. The man had done Nothing wrong; he was just deeply worried for his little girl.

“I know,” he sighed. “I apologize as well; I should not have getting angry like that. But believe me, if I have anything new I will contact you immediately.”

Praxidike Meng nodded and then quietly exited the room.

The fifty year old man went to work, but there was so long before his thoughts would come back to his daughter —right at the moment he got into his car to go home. He glanced at the backpack next to him and then started the engine, throat tight and vision blurry.

However, what he expected to be a usual evening spent in his living-room reflecting about how to find Mei Meng was interrupted by the sudden sound of the doorbell. The attack on one of the inhabitants of Ceres, that bartender—what was his name? He had forgotten— flashed through his mind.

He slowly walked toward the entrance, grabbing an umbrella as he went. In front of him stood a man he had never seen, his pale skin contrasting with the dark strands of hair coming out from under the hood of his clothing.

“Praxidike Meng?” the stranger said, watching him with piercing blue eyes.

“What do you want? Who are you?”

“The person who is going to help you find your daughter.”


	2. Bargain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and for reading!

“And how do you suggest doing that, exactly?” Praxidike inquired as he considered the stranger standing in front of him, his brow creasing into a frown.

The lad was what, twenty years old? And he claimed that he could fare better than policemen who had years of training and experiences under their belts, without mentioning all the resources that were at their disposal?

 _Miller was charged with finding Jules-Pierre Mao’s daughter. Look how well that ended_ , a small part of him whispered.

His impossibly blue stare fixed on him, the stranger remained silent, pointing a finger at the inside of the house. The father stepped aside.

“Nice place,” he said as he entered, removing his hood.

The small living-room had an industrial feel, all clean lines and ordered space, yet was welcoming thanks to the creamy white tones paired with the coffee-colored woodwork. Plants were scattered here and there, as if their drawn counterparts that ornate the walls had come to life. While he was taking in his surroundings, Praxidike seized the opportunity to discreetly put aside his improvised weapon.

“Where can I settle without disturbing you?”

He gestured at the table, and his guest seated himself, pulling a laptop out of his messenger bag.

“To tell the truth, several individuals disappeared across the _whole state_ , not only in the Belt. If we figure out what connect these people, then we will be able to warn potential targets and to foil the plans of their abductors, but also to understand the latter and what their motivations are.”

Praxidike tried not to think about what they could possibly want to do with a seven years old girl.

“You still have to tell me how you’re going to find them.”

“Patience is a virtue, my friend,” his interlocutor grinned.

The frown turned into a scowl. “How much do you want?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, how much do you want?”

“You’re assuming that I want _money_? That I want to be _paid_ for my services?” he cried, offended. “No, sir, rest assured, you can keep all of it. I’m not interested in your money. Don’t you know? I’m the man who defends the weak and the oppressed, the man without a face who felony fights in shadows dressed, the forever stranger and yet your greatest friend!”

Praxidike stared at him with bewilderment. That guy was completely out of his mind. And he had let him enter his house!

“You should see your face, that’s priceless,” he chuckled, which made his more serious reply far more upsetting.

“My only friend is among the persons who disappeared. She’s everything I have. I’m aware that that might sound sappy, but, well, it’s the truth. I want to have her back; however I can’t do that alone. Would take too much time. We have to help each other. Together, we will find my friend, your little daughter, and everyone else. So, you see, I don’t want money.”

The Belter did not answer, pondering. If the stranger was not sincere despite giving such an impression or proved to be too much trouble, he would simply kick him out. But for now, the stranger would stay, because if was indeed able to find his daughter, Praxidike would never forgive himself for letting that chance pass.

“You’d better give me some results, then. What’s the name of your friend?”

“Her name is Faraday.”

“And again, how do you—” He abruptly fell silent upon noticing the symbols on the files he had just opened. Unless his eyes were suddenly not working properly, that very much looked like the one of the city’s police department. And was that one from the NYPD?

“Stop that immediately!”

The stranger gave him a questioning look, an eyebrow arched.

“That’s how you intend to find them? By hacking the police department and stealing their files? That’s completely illegal!” he shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at his screen and stepping away as if to deny any involvement with him.

“This is the only way!” he retorted, getting up. “We can’t really ask them to hand us their files, can we? I’ve told you, they did not even make the connections with the disappearances in other cities, and we have to get access to all of the persons’ profile, not just their names. Besides, policemen have tons of procedure, confidentiality clauses and all of that to observe—you’ve seen that yourself, you know what I’m talking about—by the time they tell us what they know, the information will be old. You want to find your daughter, yes or no?”

Praxidike ran a hand through his short, black hair, pacing. “If they catch us…”

“They won’t. I’m the best at what I do.”

Many said the same, and that made their fall only harder.

After a few minutes, the father let out a sigh and nodded. The stranger seated himself.

“I will have to stay here for practical reasons, but don’t worry, I will keep your house clean and help you with the cooking,” he winked. “However, I have a crucial question that would suffer no delay; do you have everything to print?”

“Yes.”

The younger man smiled, satisfied, and then returned to his screen, his hands gliding over the keyboard, the sound punctually followed by that of the printer regurgitating paper.

“Oh, forgot to tell you; the name is Cass, by the way.”

“That’s your real name or some hacking nickname?” Praxidike asked as he took the sheets and arranged them into stacks.

“Is _yours_ your real name?”

Shaking his head, the Belter chose to ignore him.

Half an hour later, the printer came to a stop. On the table were twenty stacks. _Thick_ stacks. But paper and cartridges cost was the least of Praxidike’s problems.

“Here you go,” Cass said joyfully as he gave him half of the files. “Now, this is how we are going to proceed. If we read those files separately, we may miss some significant connection —what if the persons in your stack don’t have the same jobs but one has the same than that of a person from my stack? Which is why we are going to read them to each other, moving from one information to the next.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” he agreed.

“Get yourself comfortable, partner. This is going to take some time.”

 

* * *

 

From the walkway, hands resting on the metallic bar, Fred Johnson surveyed the men shouting orders at each other as they handled the rare supplies they had either managed to grab in their escape or to get through their contacts. He vainly tried not to dwell on how very few those supplies and men were. Or how gray and devoid of windows the walls were. Or how stale the air was.

Under his fingers, the metallic bar lets out a squeak. He was itching for a run, for the bright colors of nature.

His hearing picked up footfall climbing up the stairs, and his nose the smell of sweat, leather and gunpowder.

“A few hunters have arrived. They are settling down,” Drummer announced.

Lines marked his brow. That was not going to be enough.

They estimated that nearly half of their forces had joined Marco Inaros and Anderson Dawes, and among their bases almost none were operational because partly or entirely destroyed. Granted, they were rebuilding and reorganizing themselves, but this process required time they did not have. The situation was dire; they had lost both Julie Mao and the substance to those rebellious hunters. And he knew that, unlike them, they truly intended to use it. But how? That was another question that needed to be answered.

The device attached to her hip beeped, interrupting his musing.

“We have an incoming communication. Someone would like to talk to you.”

“ID?”

He sincerely hoped that it was from a fellow hunter. Last thing they needed was a security breach.

Disbelief mingled with caution in her dark eyes. “Apparently, it’s from Chrisjen Avasarala.”

His hands left the railing, and she followed him as he headed to his office. He briefly stoppped upon noticing the plant and the UV lamp on his desk, and then turned to his right-arm. The latter gave him a light smile.

The dark-skinned lycanthrope put the councilor through.

“Fred Johnson.”

“Chrisjen Avasarala.To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The Indian woman smiled. When people said such a thing to her, they rarely meant it. “I want us to put aside our differences and to be allies.”

Drummer raised her eyebrows. Well, that was straight to the point.

“A war is coming and the only winners will be pain and sorrow. Unless we stop the persons who are responsible.”

“You know for the rebellion,” he realized. “But you don’t know exactly who is involved; otherwise you would have never contacted me.”

“And you are in desperate need for help,” she remarked. “Almost all of your centers of operations have been destroyed. It would be better if we worked _with_ each other and not _against_ each other."

He refrained from clenching his jaw. 

“We know that you are not to be blamed; those rebellious hunters are. We are on the same side.”

“We?” he said, giving her a pointed look.

“The werewolves and the vampires.”

So they had overcome centuries of conflicts and wars to ally themselves. They were indeed taking this very seriously, as they should.

And of course, the Guardians were aware of his predicament. Despite some mishaps, they had always been the best for gathering intel. Something the werewolves had always envied them, along with their interrogation skills.

“Let’s say I agree to be your ally. How can I be sure that you or the vampires, or even the both of you will not turn on us as soon as the war is won?”

“We would have no reason to do so. I am among the ones who believe that hunters are sometimes necessary to keep peace, as long as they do not attack innocent vampires or werewolves.”

“I will have to contend myself with words, then?”

Her expression showed annoyance. “You want to keep the substance.”

“As you said. Balance.”

Chrisjen Avasarala glared at him. Drummer smirked.

“I give you the name of all the rebellious hunters involved and you tell me everything you know. After that, we get rid of them together and find the humans, and then I keep the substance as a guarantee that none of you will ever use it.”

“We have an agreement, then,” she eventually replied. “I will contact you next time the Council gathers.”

The screen became black.

“You look satisfied despite the fact you let him impose his conditions,” Cotyar remarked not without a touch of sarcasm.

“He has information we don’t have and which would make us save a precious time. Human lives are at stake,” Chrisjen Avasarala replied. “And do you truly believe that I would let him get what he wants that easily? At the first sign of deceit on his part, he will find himself with nothing but slime. Turned out that the vampire intel’s screw-up is going to be useful, after all.”

 

* * *

 

Gia was on her way home from work when she felt her phone vibrate. She slipped a hand in her bag, and a smile brightened her thin face as she opened the message.

_From: Dimitri Havelock._

_Can’t wait for the week-end. Miss you._

_Miss you too_ , she typed back.

She knew that the young policeman was uneasy about the disappearances, and thus that he was secretly relieved that he would watch over her at least for a bit. Another woman might find that irritating, but not her. She thought that it was quite adorable. No man had ever been that thoughtful toward her, or even caring.

A hand suddenly covered her mouth as she was about to cross the street, and an arm wrapped around her to block her arms. The smell of smoke hit her nostrils. Panic washed over her like alcohol in blood. She felt her agressor drag her away, toward a darker area.

Gia started kicking furiously at whatever she could reach, remembering that a hit in the shins was quite painful. Her foot successfully connected with the limb and the man groaned, but did not loosen his grip. She had only managed to anger him.

“Stay still if you want to stay alive,” he hissed in a throaty voice in her ear before grumbling. “That one is feisty like that ginger from last time.”

“Just knock her out, then,” someone said.

Certainly his partner, she thought. Out of the corner of her eye, she made out the shape of a vehicle.

The man raised his fist. A growl pierced the air.


	3. Déjà vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for the kudos, the subscription and for reading!

Miller felt Octavia stare at him over the body of the stout, square-faced man that lay on the ground with the flesh of his throat and torso completely torn. Those wounds looked suspiciously _familiar_.

He sighed internally. What were the werewolves playing at, attacking people and then dumping them in the middle of the street? If those individuals were involved with the abductors then good riddance, but that complicated his work. How was he going to have the men responsible brought to justice and condemned, if he could not prove that it was them who ripped the humans apart? It’s not like he could nicely ask the lycanthropes to transform themselves so that he could retrieve a tooth or a claw. And were they not supposed to be discrete?

Holden and he needed to have a little chat.

“His accomplice is in the same state,” his partner said. “No ID or paper either. But we found a vehicle, which our scientists are examining.”

Said vehicle was probably stolen, but it was a start. The old detective observed the buildings around him. Mostly houses, a few shops but at first glance none had cameras. Well, they were not that stupid after all.

“Witnesses?”

“We are calling for them.”

“Good. Let’s see if we already know those guys.”

An hour later, back at the precinct, it turned out that they did.

Filat Kothari and Heikki Sabong. Both had a record. And what a record! Multiple aggressions, robbery, illegal detention of weapons, and they were even suspected in several cases of murders.

“Miller, a woman has just arrived. She claims that one of the men found this morning assaulted her,” Champa informed him. “She won’t talk to anybody but you.”

Muss gave him a questioning look. He shrugged. He had no idea why she asked for him specifically. Upon entering the interrogation room, however, he better understood the reason behind this. Sat at the table was Gia, that pretty waitress who caught the eye of his former partner.

“I’ve heard that the guys we found attacked you?”

“They tried to abduct me,” she corrected. “It was after my shift at the _Canterbury_ , a bit after nine. I was on my way home and about to cross the street, when one of them showed up from behind. He…he covered my mouth with his hand and dragged me away…”

She fidgeted with her knuckle rings. “I…I first thought that he was going to…you know…but then I remarked the car. I started to fight back, I kicked him repeatedly but he was holding me too firmly. I did not succeed in breaking free. He threatened to hurt me if I did not calm down, and his partner told him to knock me out. That’s the last thing I heard before the growls and the screams.”

Werewolves turned vigilantes; that was a new one.

“Would you be able to describe them?” he inquired although he doubted that it was the case given that it was night and that the guy grabbed her from behind.

The dark walnut-haired woman shook her head. “No, but he was a smoker. Smelt like cigarettes. I didn’t see his partner.”

“And the persons who rescued you?”

“I did not see them,” she replied before adding. “Nor their dogs.”

“Dogs?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes, I suppose. I heard growls, what else could that be?”

He watched her closely. Was she actually unaware of the true nature of her friend—or rather boyfriend, he assumed—or was she pretending in order to protect him and his people?

“Anything else?”

“Now that I’m thinking about it, yes…,” she frowned. “They mentioned another person they abducted. They did not say their name, just that this person have red hair.”

He nodded. That would be the woman abducted a little over one day ago.

“I am not going to lie to you, if those persons tried to take you it’s possible they will try again,” he said softly. “We can assign you policemen to watch over you day and night, or even move you into a secured house.”

As a waitress, she was no stranger to rowdy customers or those with wandering hands; she could hold her own. But this kind of situation was something else entirely.

“No, thank you, I’ll be fine.”

“Already have your guardian angel,” he smiled lightly.

Her eyes widened just a bit.

Yeah, Havelock was definitely her boyfriend.

“We had already planned to see each other for the weekend,” she revealed. “And that’s none of your business.”

True, he was not his partner anymore.

“You can go. If you remember anything else, do not hesitate,” he said, slipping his card across the table.

When he returned to his desk, Octavia was just ending a conversation on the phone.

“The car was reported as stolen last week; it belongs to a citizen from Ceres,” she told him. “I’ve transmitted the alert to all of our forces, so they can give us everything they will gather on it.”

If they determined the kidnappers’ whereabouts from the past few days, then maybe they would be able to find their center of operations or, even better, their captives.

“Any progress on our guys’ profile?”

“No,” Miller replied, tapping his chin with a pen. “They must be members of a larger group, there is no way they could have taken people just the two of them. Problem is that as far as we know, they are not affiliated to any organization.”

“A new one, then?”

“Possible, though I think we would have heard about it by now. No, I’m thinking that this organization has always existed; only that it is very well hidden.”

Like those hunters Julie-Mao worked with. The old detective suddenly tossed his pen and grabbed the phone under the puzzled look of his partner.

“Miller! What a surprise!” a female voice soon beamed. Her distorted joyful tone made her sound even more childlike.

“Hi, Sam. I need a favor.”

“You’re investigating the disappearances.”

A short pause. “You know I can’t tell you anything.”

“What do I have to look for?”

“I’m sending you IDs, but these men are ghosts. Maybe you and your… _friends_ will be able to find something.”

She let out a short laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, and I’m a ray of pure sunlight,” he replied.

“Fine, fine, I will see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Ah, what would you do without me?” she teased before adding, a tad hesitant and more serious. “I’m glad to hear from you, Miller. I was worried.”

“Glad to hear you too, Sam.”

* * *

 

“I knew you would come,” Holden said as a greeting, letting the Belter enter. “I suppose your visit is related to the disappearances.”

He was alone; Naomi and Amos were working and his shift would not start before a few hours.

“We found two guys this morning, not far from the Canterbury,” he replied. “Werewolves chewed on them. You know anything about that?”

“I haven’t heard anything yet, but I can look into it.”

Maybe even warn the Elders. Some werewolves being loose was not a good thing and to no one, particularly if they had no control over themselves.

“Here,” Miller said, handing him two files. Holden glanced at him, then opened and was met with a bulky man with no hair and another who was thin with long, dark hair. In other circumstances, he would have chuckled at the comical difference of features between them.

“They tried to take one of your colleagues last night, Gia.” His head shot up as his fingers clenched.

“She’s fine. Those werewolves I’m looking for helped her escape,” the old detective assured. “Also, she’s the girlfriend of my former partner. You know, Dimitri Havelock. She told me what happened, but I think she knows more than she let on.”

Meaning, she might be actually aware of his monthly hair problem, Holden caught on.

“I’ll talk to her; we begin work at the same time this afternoon.”

The Belter gave him a paper, on which something was scribbled. “Her address. Thank you, Holden.”

Of course he had deduced that he would pay her a visit.

“How are you doing?” the bartender inquired as the blonde-haired man was leaving, concern showing in his voice. Those disappearances certainly reminded him of his previous case; how he arrived too late to save Julie Mao.

“I’m fine, Holden.”

No need to be a certain blue-eyed vampire to know that he was lying through his teeth.

 

“Hi. I heard what happened to you last night. You’re alright?” Holden asked his colleague who was getting ready for her shift.

“Hi. Yes, thank you,” she smiled lightly.

The waitress then walked forward, expecting him to move since he was blocking the exit of the staff room, but he did nothing of the sort. Her lips thinned.

“You’re on my way.”

“Do you know the people who helped you?”

“What are you talking about? No people helped me. My aggressors were attacked by dogs. Now, excuse me but I have to work. You too.”

“I think we both know they were people before being…dogs,” he replies, watching her reaction carefully. She did not gasp in surprise or shock, but her body froze for a few seconds, and the sudden sharp smell of nervousness reached his nostrils. He slowly raised his hand in a placating gesture.

“I’m not going to hurt you; I’m on your side. I’m the same than your boyfriend, Dimitri Havelock.”

He listened for any approaching footsteps, and once he was sure they would not be disturbed, his eyes turned golden. This was a risk, particularly if she was not a Clear-sighted, but he had to earn her trust. And Miller was pretty convinced she knew the truth.

“You…you’re one of them,” she whispered. “You’re a werewolf. And Miller told you about Dimitri, didn’t he?”

“Yes. And I’m not one of them. Well, yes but I don’t protect innocent people by killing the ones who attack them. That’s contrary to our laws and principles. Werewolves who attack people like that are a threat to everyone, no matter if their victims are criminals, and must be stopped. So, it’s very important you tell me everything you know about them.”

“I didn’t see them. But I heard that a new alpha arrived in town recently. That might be his way to deal with the criminals who abduct Belters.”

Wonderful. As far as he knew, _he_ was the alpha of the city. This one must have seized the opportunity that he was too busy and shaken after the Julie Mao case to take control. Problem is that like two objects that could not occupy the same space at the same time there could not be two of them for the same territory, unless he was managing a much larger one like his father. Meaning that they would have to reach an agreement, and if that stranger refused to share then Holden would either have to leave or to give up his status and join that werewolf’s pack with Amos and Naomi—there was no way he was dragging them into a territorial conflict. Despite being amazing, strong and determined, they would be unable to compare; his pack was very small, too small. He would rather give up his own life than lose anyone else because of himself.

“Can you spread the word that I would like to talk to him, please?”

She nodded.

“Thank you.”

* * *

 

Praxidike Meng listened attentively as the lad read the file to him, doing his best to ignore the part of him that was both bewildered and uncomfortable at the sheer amount of information he gathered on each of the victims—place of birth, residences, studies from high school to universities, summer jobs and professional careers, friends and lovers, eventual record and medical files, and other things he was not supposed to know and had not wished to know. 

“...he was diagnosed with Myers-Skelton Premature Immunosenescence.”

He tensed.

“What is it?” Cass asked.

“My daughter has the same thing. That can’t be cured so she has to take medication for the rest of her life. That might be the connection we are looking for.”

“Maybe, except that my friend does not have that and she was nevertheless abducted.”

“That is not necessarily expressed. She may carry the genes without knowing.”

The lad did not reply, pondering. “This would be a mistake to overlook any possible lead. However, we must be sure. Do you know anyone who could run a test for that?”

“Yes, one of my friends works at the hospital. She will help us.”

“Good. I’m going back to my friend’s place to retrieve some hair, then. While I’m away, keep on reading and note any common element, please, so we won’t waste time.”

The young girl’s father did not even bother pointing out that he would be unable to enter his friend’s apartment without breaking the law since the entrance must have been sealed to protect evidences.

“What do they want from them?” he wondered as his associate was readying himself. “I doubt they are taking people to test something that could heal this. They would have simply asked them, even if that was conducted illegally.”

“We will discover their schemes and stop them; it’s a matter of time.”

 

* * *

 

Cotyar was collecting coppery strands from the hairbrush, when he heard someone walking toward the back window. Which was that of the bedroom. Which was separated from the bathroom he was in by nothing but a wall.

He had to get out of there, and fast.

The werewolf neatly closed the small bag which he put in the inner pocket of his leather jacket, and then drew nearer to the door without a noise.

Soft, metallic sounds. The person was picking the lock.

The werewolf stepped out. The kitchen was further down on the right, not delimitated by walls but with some of the furniture lined up and arranged in such a way that they would stand between him and the guy once he would arrive in front of the door of the bathroom. A nice hiding spot.

At the same moment he sank to the floor, the door was pushed opened. He discreetly sniffed the air. Male, human. A hunter? But why a hunter siding with Fred Johnson would be there? Was their leader reluctant to be dependable on others or indebted to them, like Avasarala? The footstep grew closer. Cotyar remained perfectly silent. If he made a noise, the guy would just have to move on his left and peer over the countertop to see him. But he did not make any noise, and the guy did not stop.

Cotyar waited ten minutes after the stranger left, and then got up. If hunters were interfering, then he was not paid enough.

 

* * *

 

“Whisky, please.”

“Coming!” said Holden who was at the other end of the counter. He prepared the drink, and almost dropped it upon noticing who the new client was.

In front of him was seated a slim man with long, brown hair streaked with white, and dark almond-shaped eyes.

A man he had hoped to forget when moving to Ceres but never completely did. A man he was still having nightmares about.

Strands of blonde hair, blood and splinters of wood flashed through his mind.

“Hello, son,” the man grinned.

The wolf side of the bartender wanted to remove this satisfied expression from his face with his claws.

“I am _not_ your son. Tom is my father, not you,” he snarled, attracting a few glances. “How dare you say so after what you did?”

“I know this was a terrible mistake, something which I will have to live with for the rest of my life. And you and I know that it’s quite a long life.”

“So what, you’re feeling remorseful and came here to tell me how sorry you are?”

“Not exactly,” he replied, raising an eyebrow as he took the glass and noticed the cracks. 

“Then we have nothing to say to each other,” Holden sneered.

“Are you sure?” he asked, eyes gleaming. “I heard that you wanted to talk to the alpha of the city. So here I am.”


	4. Closing in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for the kudos!

“What happened?” Naomi immediately inquired as Holden angrily tossed his keys on the table and got rid of his jacket in abrupt movements.

The muscle of his jaw worked, and his eyes locked with hers. His dark irises were molten rocks; one spark and they would burn in a golden light. Holden paced across the living-room, clearly agitated, and then sank into the couch where she was seated a few moments ago, a hand rubbing at the nape of his neck.

Naomi exchanged a worried glance with Amos. For all they went through, they had never seen him like this before.

“I met the werewolf responsible for the attack on the hunters,” he finally revealed. “His name is Caesar. He…he was one of the people who raised me, and my father’s right arm.”

“Why is he here?” the female mechanic asked.

“A few years ago, my father chose me as the next leader instead of him,” Holden explained, and then stopped, smiling a cheerless smile. “Needless to say he did not appreciate at all. He…rebelled against my father, who defeated him and cast him out of the pack.”

A short silence followed that statement, which was softly broken by Naomi.

“So, that Caesar decided to come here, the city you live in, and to become the alpha as a payback for your father’s decision?”

Well, Holden had never considered himself as the alpha of Ceres and—if he was completely honest with himself—it was for this reason that the man had been able to pick up the role so easily in the first place.

“Yeah, looks so. He told me that he was dealing with the…” he waved in the air. “hunter problem, unlike me.”

Naomi crossed her arms. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet,” the werewolf replied, letting out a sigh.

Something she interpreted as resignation, which she did not seem to approve. “You cannot let him do what he wants, James.”

No, Holden, or the more affectionate Jim, and a tone close to that his mother uses when she scolds him. Indeed, she was angry.

“He may be dealing with the hunters, but his ways are far from ideal and he is threatening the secret of your existence,” she continued, unrelenting. “I think the law of the Council is clear about that matter.”

“You don’t understand,” he snapped.

Naomi's mouth turned into a hard line.

“If he challenges him, he will have to fight him to death,” Amos helpfully explained.

“Exactly! And what good would it make if I’m dead?” Holden suddenly stood, and draw nearer to Naomi. “Besides, do you think he will leave the two of you alone? He will make Amos join him and take him out if he resists. As for you…”

The bartender turned his gaze away. He did not have the strength to say that thought out loud.

“…he will make you his mate,” Amos finished, unflinching. “That’s how that works.”

“I would love to see him try,” Naomi declared before staring at them in turn. “We can defend ourselves. But this is not the case of all of the innocent humans and werewolves that might end up dead for refusing to follow him. Our lives are not worth that of many people. And those hunters who tried to abduct Gia were criminals, but they deserved to be judged.”

The Belter did not wait for their response and briskly walked out of the room, letting Holden mull over their conversation.

And mull over he did. So much, in fact, that he kept tossing and turning in his bed. The visions of blonde strands of hair soaked in red, of light eyes staring blindly at the ceiling, would not let him rest. Deciding that enough was enough, Holden threw the sheets away from his body covered in sweat and got up to have a glass of water. There, in the kitchen, he stumbled upon Amos who was quietly munching on what was obviously a late night snack. If we could called a triple-layered sandwich a late night snack.

They looked at each other, and then the pack leader walked toward the cupboard. He took a glass, and standing at the table across from the lycanthrope, sipped his drink.

“You didn’t tell us everything.”

The words were calmly spoken. This was not a reproach; this was an observation.

Holden met the blonde’s steel irises, and put down the glass with a small thud. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Amos nodded, and everything was silent again until he spoke up.

“All you have to do is ask.”

Holden was about to clear the table, when he paused upon understanding the meaning of his words. Amos was offering to take care of the werewolf, so the pack—and particularly Naomi, he assumed—would be safe. Amos was acting as his second in command.

“I…appreciate your gesture, but I should be the person dealing with that. Naomi’s right.”

“As you wish.”

 

* * *

 

Praxidike waited near the entrance of Ceres Hospital, his fingers drumming against his thigh.

He checked his watch. His colleague should not be long. After five minutes that felt like five hours, an Asian woman clad in white came into view. She looked around, her long ponytail sweeping over her shoulder, and smiled upon noticing him.

“Prax.”

“Hi, Doris. Do you have what I asked for?”

“Yes.” She produced an envelope from the folds of her coat, and gave it to him.

“Thank you,” he breathed, taking the piece of paper with unsteady hands. “This is very important.”

Feeling a light contact on his arm, he cast Doris Bourne a questioning look. The dark eyes of his long-time friend were full of worry.

“How are you doing? I can’t imagine what you’re going through…”

“I’m trying not to lose hope. The police are doing everything they can to find her.”

The doctor looked as if she wanted to ask something, certainly why he requested her to run this test in such a haste, but simply said:

“If you need help or someone to talk to…”

Praxidike smiled, albeit a bit sadly, and took her hand before squeezing the latter. “Thank you, Doris. Truly.”

 

“You have the results?” Cass asked as soon as the door shut, stirring his eyes away from his laptop.

As a reply, the scientist brandished the envelope.

“And? What do they say?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Despite the fact that that piece of paper might hold the answers to some of his numerous questions, Praxidike had not opened it before arriving home, out of respect for his self-proclaimed partner. He would never admit it, but he somehow got used to the lad’s presence and sometimes unceasing babbling, which he suspected was his way to deal with the stressful situation. He blinked.

“Oh," he blinked. "Thank you, that’s thoughtful of you.”

“Actually, I think you should be the one to look at those results. This is about your friend, after all.”

The hacker took the proffered document. 

“Faraday has the same thing than your daughter,” he declared after a moment.

“Now we know what they are looking for.”

“But why? Do you have any idea?”

“I know about plants, not human beings,” the father reminded him.

“Right. Maybe it’s to make tests on them? There was that fire at the facility across the border, not far. They said that this was an accident, but maybe they lied.”

Great, someone who was into conspiracies.

“I’m not,” Cass grinned, as if he had read his mind. “This is just a theory. But let’s eat first; our bodies need fuel. We will think about that later.”

Turned out that the lad had been in the kitchen for the past hour. He served him pasta with an avocado sauce, claiming that those were perfect because they would give them strength for the whole afternoon, as well as vitamins. 

“This is delicious,” Prax said around a mouthful. 

“Thank you; I was told I was amazing at cooking. However, I would never surpass my friend for baked goods. Faraday is just the best confectioner I’ve ever seen. Sometimes I invite her over for lunch or dinner, and she gives me some of her confections,” he explained, smiling. “I’ve noticed the dinosaurs on your daughter’s door. I take she likes them?”

His impromptu question did not confuse him—not anymore. Praxidike had learned that he tended to change topics abruptly, without any obvious logical connection, at least to him.

“More like she loves them. When she was five, she heard that paleontologists study dinosaurs and declared that she would become one and then go to their lands so she could observe them. I didn’t have the heart to explain to her that this was not possible; she looked so happy…how could I? And then she came back from school in tears. I asked her what happened, and she said that one of her classmates told her that dinosaurs did not exist anymore.”

“And then, what did you do?” Cass inquired, listening intently.

“I told her that somehow that was not true; we still learn about them so they are not really dead and some animals are even their descendants. Then, we watched her favorite animated show, Misko and Marisko —that’s where the pale green and pink dinosaurs on her door come from— eating ice creams.”

In his almond eyes, the gleam of happiness brought up by the memories dulled.

“You’ll spend many other evenings watching this together, I promise,” his younger friend stated. “We will find them.”

“But how? We still don’t have any lead on their location.”

Cass gave a light shrug of his shoulder. “Well, they certainly needed big facilities, and they must be near. It’s just a matter of time. Besides, have I ever disappointed you so far?”

Prax shook his head. “I’m not putting your skills into question. But these persons went missing all across the state, you said so yourself. Which means they are scattered in several groups, meaning they will be only harder to locate. Also, with what happened to their men, they will be more cautious.”

“I know about that. But we cannot lose hope, can we?”

 

* * *

 

Upon exiting his office, Jules-Pierre Mao was met with two well-built men standing near a black car with tinted windows. He discreetly sniffed the air. The strangers were werewolves, and on high alert.

“Mr. Sadavir Errinwright sent us. Follow us, please.”

The businessman's grip on his suitcase tightened. He felt his nails form claws that were slowly digging into his palms.

That was it; the councilor had discovered that he was working with Avasarala and the vampires. Now they were taking him somewhere, probably to some obscure facility far from everything in order to interrogate him before killing him. Then, it would be his family’s turn.

He forced himself to stay calm. “Is there a problem?”

They did not answer him, impatiently motioning for him to get into the car instead. He complied, and the door seemed to close with a final and decisive note.

“Put this on,” one of them said gruffly, handing him something. As he took it, he realized that this was a large band of cloth.

“Is this really necessary?” he asked, indignation slightly showing in his tone. The brown-haired man looked at him with an expression that left no room for argument. Clearly, he did not give a damn that he was an alpha. What had Errinwright done to deserve such a loyalty?

Blinded, Jules-Pierre Mao tried to mentally take note of the directions, but lost track of them at some point. He had only two certainties: they had been driving for a couple of hours, and they had left the city. Eventually, they came to a halt and he was dragged out of the car. But they did not remove the fold, not until they were inside the building.

Light hit his retinas, as well as the sight of Sadavir Errinwright, in a pristine dark suit. He remarked that he had not been led to an abandoned warehouse but to what looked like a research facility.

“Good evening,” the dark-haired lycanthrope greeted. “I’m sorry for momentarily blinding you, but it’s a safety measure. If you get caught for a reason or another, you can’t tell Avasarala and her friends where we operate if you don’t know where that is.”

“Naturally,” Jules-Pierre Mao nodded.

He should have expected that from him, he had always been careful. Careful and ambitious. He had not become a pack leader and a member of the Elders by chance.

“You mentioned a center of operations?” Jules-Pierre Mao said, catching up.

“Well, you did request to see what the substance was used for, didn’t you?” Sadavir spread his arms. “So, here we are. Some adjustments are still required, but I can show you the latest results.”

Following Avasarala’s instructions, Julie's father had demanded to see what they were exactly doing, saying that they would do well to remember that this was all thanks to him, and that he lied to the police for them. He did not expect them to comply so soon.

They walked down several corridors, occasionally meeting employees dressed in white that gave Sadavir a bow of their heads, and he looked around with attention—maybe he could manage to find a sign that would indicate him where they were—but not too obviously so he would not raise their suspicions, although he could then argue that he was just curious after having been denied access for such a long time.

They arrived to a room, which was almost empty except for some equipment and an operating table on which laid someone—or something?—covered by a sheet, which Sadavir Errinwright removed.

Jules-Pierre Mao could only stare, stunned.

The man, middle-aged judging from the patches of iron-colored hair, had features that were no longer humans but looked as if they had been crossed with those of werewolves. The dark skin was burned and puffy where it gave way to metallic parts.

The lycanthrope would recognize that aspect and gleam anywhere. Silver.

“I…I’m not sure I understand…” he began, his eyes fixed on the body, fascinated but wrongly so.

“The substance, once appropriately adjusted can be injected to humans, transforming them and putting them on the same level than werewolves and vampires, while having none of their weaknesses,” Sadavir explained, watching him intently.

With tremendous efforts, his reluctant associate looked up. “How many do the hunters plan to make?”

“Enough,” he simply replied.

This was not good. This was not good at all.

“Sadavir…” he called, his voice low and tensed. “You do realize that this could be the end of us, don’t you? This deal of yours…”

The councilor smiled. “My friend, do you really think that I expect them to keep their words? You know me better than that.

 

* * *

 

Vampires were astonishingly good at hiding their emotions.

Nevertheless, surprise clearly showed on their faces—even if that was for a fleeting moment—when they were confronted to Fred Johnson upon getting online. Smiling inwardly, Chrisjen Avasarala considered that as a small, personal victory; there was nothing more delightful than throwing persons who were usually painfully impassible.

“Fred Johnson is now our ally,” she stated. “He agreed to share information with us and to help us stop Sadavir Errinwright and the hunters who are truly responsible for the assaults. In exchange, I guaranteed him that we would not go after him or his men, and that the substance will be in his hands and his only.”

She did not have to wait long for their reaction.

“You should have come to us before making that decision,” Peñano said, her eyes flashing with anger. “We are working _with_ you, not _for_ you. Unless I’m mistaken?”

“I sincerely hope for you, for all of us, that this is not true. Should I remind you what that man is? He cannot be trusted; he will use the substance against us at the first opportunity,” her colleague added.

Chrisjen Avasarala refrained from rolling her eyes. She had just made the decision none of them dared to make. Really, they should thank her!

“I see that you are behaving exactly as the hunters who betrayed me.”

They all turned their attention to Fred Johnson. Now that he was certain that they were listening to him and not blaming him, the lycanthrope continued, his voice soft but firm.

“You are assuming that we are all the same. But we’re not. I’m not like them. I track down vampires and werewolves who are dangerous—dangerous for all of us. The men who have the object, they don’t care about the innocents; they want to destroy you. _All of you._ But if you are unable to see that, then I have nothing to do with you or to tell you.”

“What did I say about bickering like children in the playground?” Chrisjen Avasarala hissed. Those idiots were ruining everything.

“If vampires disagree, fine, we will handle the situation just the two of us. But remember, when you run crying in your mothers’ skirts because the bad guys crushed you, that this was on you and no one else.”

“Do you have any valuable information, at least?” Pyotr Korshunov asked Fred Johnson.

“I can give you the name of all the rebels.”

The vampires exchanged a glance, and after a silent conversation, nodded in agreement.

“We accept your help. You can count on us,” Peñano declared.

“Since our last conversation, our teams discovered that the rebels are targeting humans affected with Myer-Skelton Premature Immunosenescence, certainly because of compatibility. However, we still don’t know what the substance can be used for exactly.”

Once again, eyes converged toward Fred Johnson, but he did not seem to be able to enlighten them on that matter. Then, Jules-Pierre Mao went online.

“I know what they are—” He abruptly stopped upon noticing Fred Johnson. “What is this man doing here? My daughter died because of him!”

“He is helping us so she will not be dead for nothing,” Chrisjen Avasarala snapped. “We could also talk about her convictions and your shitty parenting, but we are not shrinks and we have other problems. You said you had information?”

His brown irises darted toward the hunters' leader; he swallowed hard, and then focused again. “Yes. Sadavir  led me to one of their facilities. I don’t know where that was, I was blindfolded.”

“We put a tracker on you,” the female vampire said nonchalantly. “From there we will be able to deduce the location of their other facilities.

“Wait, what?” Jules-Pierre Mao exclaimed. “When did you—”

“Could we stay focused, please?” Chrisjen Avasarala cut off. “What did you see?”

“Sadavir showed me a man to whom they gave the substance, and explained to me that thanks to that, humans would be as strong as lycanthropes and vampires. That…that man looked like our transitory forms, but not quite exactly. And he had silver embedded in his skin.”

“Are you saying that they are making werewolf-like beings stronger than actual werewolves and insensitive to silver?” Chrisjen Avasara asked.

“I think so.”

Then, may God have mercy on them. 


End file.
